Critical Meltdown
by Quantumphysica
Summary: Natasha Romanova is the most renowned courtesan of New York... but also the most dangerous one. Drama ensues in Tony Stark's night club when a certain god of mischief lets his eye fall on the red-haired russian... features slavegirl Maria Hill, bartender Steve, showgirl Pepper, love triangles, and lots, oh lots of dirty smut...
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first try at an AU... be nice? **

The nightlife of New York City was a bizarre mess of both the rich and the poor, with businessmen looking for a night of pleasure, prostitutes flaunting their wares, youngsters drinking and drugging, and tourists gawking at it all. The high-end enjoyment was focussed on VIP clubs, with the most exclusive and expensive one being The Reactor, led by the notoriously eccentric Anthony Stark. One person dominated this small world of sex, money and power...

Natasha Romanova, the most renowned courtesan in the whole of New York.

The petite woman with her red tresses and ice-cold eyes was also known as the Black Widow, because of her luscious black garments, but mostly because she was capable of ruining a man with a flick of her wrist. Being a courtesan of high stature had brought Natasha richness beyond measure, and some even said only the Stark family fortune rivalled her possessions. The sources of that fortune were the countless rich men that were willing to pay fortunes for the Widow's affections, quite often even to the point of being broke.

There was something dangerously attractive about her; it fascinated both men and women. Her gowns of black brocade, fine silk, leather and mink pelts were as much an armour as they were a sign of her status, and the only emotion that ever seemed to reach her cold eyes was a burning sense of hatred.

Men of all standing were willing to pay the exorbitant entrance fee to clubs like The Reactor simply to have a look at the woman whose fame reached the outskirts of the city…

Despite Natasha's fame, it was a pure coincidence that Loki, God of Mischief and Lies, had made his way to Stark's venue on one of his trips to Midgard. He loathed humans and their pathetic sense of pride, but he had to admit their forms of amusement were more up his alley than the classic Asgardian banquet… He sat at the bar on the floor level, with the dancing crowd below his feet visible through the glass floor, when she entered. Heads turned towards the doors, and Loki followed their gaze for his eyes to meet a most impressive female. In a black gown trailing over the floor and a dark coat of brocade and fur loosely draped over her shoulders, she was the middle of a small group of people. Most remarkable was the woman held casually on a leash by the redhead. She had short brown hair, and her body was barely covered. Only a small gold-coloured string and a thin golden belt with little bells on it clothed her… On the other side of the woman stood a tall dark man who eyed everyone suspiciously. Behind the three main persons trailed three maidservants with heavy wide-brimmed hats tied under their chin with ribbons, simple black leather dresses and impossibly high heels, as were they designed for torture.

Loki's attention to the strange group was distracted when the bartender served him his drink. It was a young muscled blonde, who gave Loki a cheeky grin.

"Ah, the Liar-Princess and her Court have arrived…"

"Who?"

The bartender raised an eyebrow.

"You're clearly from abroad. That woman is Natasha Romanova, or the Black Widow, by far the most "desirable" woman in town. She has made stripping men of their possessions into an art form really."

"You don't sound too impressed."

"There's a reason the personnel here has dubbed her the Liar-Princess, stranger. And anyway, I'm not into the whole dangerous deception thing. I prefer honesty."

"Ah."

Not someone after Loki's taste then. Or perhaps very much after his taste, as those with a love of honesty were often very naïve and gullible…

"And who are the others?"

"The guy is Clint Barton, her bodyguard. For some reason he would protect that woman with his life… The women are never named; Romanova refers to them as One, Two and Three. And that little pet she has on a leash, that's Maria, her apprentice."

"She seems more of a slave than an apprentice…"

"I agree. I don't condone the stuff that woman gets into, but… well, you'll soon enough notice most men here get a hard on by the mere sight of her."

Loki watched, and noticed. Anthony Stark came greet her himself, waving his cane at her as his red velvet suit glistered under the spots Loki couldn't understand how a man in his right mind got to wearing a red velvet suit, a shiny golden shirt and shoes with actual needle heels, but then, Anthony Stark wasn't known for his sanity. The club owner kissed the Widow's hand with flair and then made a wide gesture to the interior of the place. The Widow nodded and granted Stark a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Then she proceeded further into the venue, probably headed for one of the rooms farther from the entrance. Loki followed her every move with the eyes of a predator, a plan forming in his mischievous mind. That woman was the ultimate example of what he hated so much about the human attitude. Nothing but pride and empty stature… If he could bring that woman to her knees, he could rule this pathetic realm with his hands tied behind his back…

_(Pagebreak)_

Natasha sighed softly as she sat down on the lush black sofa. Clint stood straight, watching the doors and people like a hawk, the Numbers were quietly sitting around her, and Maria sat on a red velvet pillow at her feet. The woman looked at her with wide eyes.

"Mistress, will tonight my education begin?"

"Yes, Maria. Tonight you are having your first lesson."

The woman bit her lip. She was about the same age as Natasha, yet she seemed so much younger, if only because she was almost completely naked. The bells on her belt tingled softly when she moved on her pillow. 12 bells, one for each lesson, and when the belt had no more bells left she would be a fully trained courtesan. So far she had not yet earned one single bell off her belt… Maria thought about what had brought her to the feet of the famed Black Widow, the Liar-Princess Natasha Romanova.

A private party here at the Reactor, which the Widow had organized for her main suitor, the disgustingly rich information tech tycoon Nicholas Fury. She had been nothing but one of the many men and women the Widow's servants had "arranged" to entertain the guests. The Widow herself didn't do business with the prostitutes that were usually chartered for her parties; it was for such formalities that she had her Numbers. Maria had been dressed in nothing but a silver fishnet leotard, and she had walked through the orgy like a ghost, not knowing what was actually expected of her, when a hand had touched her shoulder. The Widow herself had caught her uncomfortable behaviour… Maria believed she remembered the woman's exact words.

_"You are not enjoying yourself. Why?"_

And in the middle of the room Maria had dared to open her mouth and say.

_"It is disgusting."_

The Widow had raised an eyebrow and asked.

_"And why do you think that?"_

_"It's a lie."_

_"You don't like lies? Don't you do this for a living?"_

_"I prefer the truth. What I do is truthful, they pay I give. This… this is an illusion."_

Natasha had observed her with great caution, and then she had slowly nodded, a slightly animal smile on her lips.

_"You will do."_

That had been the final word. Maria preferred not to remind herself of the things that had followed. A courtesan's apprentice had many things to learn, but the foremost was the appreciation of pain. Even though she had made it through those sessions, the memories were still almost as painful as the acts themselves.

"You seem in deep thought, Maria."

"Oh no my Mistress, I was simply thinking about the lesson that lies ahead of me."

Natasha shook her head. And pointed her cool eyes at Maria's boobs. The woman felt how she blushed. The Widow now nodded and spoke.

"Your lesson has begun."

_(Pagebreak)_

The Reactor was an incredibly expensive club, but Anthony Stark liked to think it was worth the money he asked his customers. There was the first floor, which had a bar and several rooms for quiet lounging and after-party, the floor beneath it, also called the Core, where people could dance to techno beats in the flashing blue light, and the floors above, which Stark rented out for "private parties" and other R-rated activities. Scantily clad waitresses and pretty showgirls kept the guests entertained, and quite often there were special performances from famous artists.

He dared say though that his best attraction was one that didn't cost him all that much money. To have the famed Black Widow use his club as her habitual haunt had given him more customers than he had ever dreamed it would…

"Eh, Tony. Penny for your thoughts?"

Stark turned to see a tall strawberry blonde in a silver cutout dress. Pepper Potts, hostess of the club and his preferred mate…

"Sweetie, my thoughts are worth much more than that."

Pepper bent forward and licked her tongue over Stark's lips.

"Think I can pay in kind?"

He hummed in approval. This was why he liked Pepper. She was so… to the point. When she wanted sex, she wanted sex, when she wanted to argue she wanted to argue, and when she did something she did it with more pragmatism and conviction than any other person he knew. She was the perfect hostess… he dared say she was the perfect mate too, but he liked to keep his options open.

"Have you seen who arrived?"

"Ah yes, the Black Widow has come to hold court at our humble abode…"

"Don't get bitten, my dear…"

"You know that lady swings to places even my dirty mind doesn't roam, Peppy…"

"Just warning you… By the way, who is that guy over there, talking to Steve?"

Stark turned his head and checked out the guy Pepper pointed out. He hadn't seen him before, but he was exactly the kind of type Stark liked to see in his club. His type. Slender, well dressed in a smart suit with a stylish scarf, sleek black hair and piercing green eyes… Even from a distance Stark could hear something rumble.

"Don't know him… yet."

"Do I have to stay out of the office tonight?"

Another thing he appreciated immensely in Pepper: she had little to no problem with his persistent polygamous behaviour…

"That is not a desk-fuck, Pep. That one gets the suite…"

"Oh, I see it. Load the guns and stack the barrels, Anthony Stark is out hunting…"

"My gun is always loaded sweetie."

"You're obnoxious, you know that?"

"I am so surprised that still surprises you after all this time, Pepper dear."

Pepper shook her head and went to entertain some more guests, while Tony licked his lips and stared at the unknown man at the bar. He sat down and signalled Steve. The blonde bartender knew immediately what his boss wanted to know.

"Not from in town. No name so far. Drinks scotch, Macallan."

Definitely his type, Tony thought.

"Buy him one for me, will ya…"

**(Author's Notes)**

**As I said, this is my first try at an AU... There will be smut. Lots and lots and lots of smut, in every size, shape and taste you can wish for... Please review, I love to know your opinions... **


	2. Chapter 2

When the bartender gave him another glass of scotch Loki looked up in surprise. The bartender grinned at him.

"It's on the house."

He nudged his head in the direction of Tony Stark, who grinned at Loki from another bar stool.

"He wanted to know your name."

"It's Loki."

Loki didn't know why he told the barman that… But Anthony Stark was the owner of this venue, and by acquainting with him perhaps he could get closer to the Widow. He nodded politely at Stark, who grinned widely at him. The bartender smiled.

"Well, to return the favour; I'm Steve."

Loki threw back his drink and said.

"Nice… to meet you, Steve."

"I think Mr Stark would like to meet you too…"

Before Loki could answer, the eccentrically dressed man sat on the stool right next to him.

"I'm not known to be a patient man…"

Loki didn't like overly confident, snarky people too much, but he couldn't deny there was a certain appeal to Anthony Stark. Call it money, power, whatever, something about him made Loki lick his lips at the sight of him.

"Tell me, what's a guy like you doing in a place like this? Not that I mind of course…"

"Just… relaxing."

"Ah, work being a pain? I can't say that of course… My work is my hobby."

"So your work consists of seducing unsuspecting customers of this bar?"

Stark chuckled.

"I think I already like you…" He looked asking in the god's direction, so Loki supplied him with his name.

"Loki."

"Loki… Low-key… Interesting name."

The man was obnoxious, and it wasn't just his flashy getup that got on the god's nerves this time. Despite that and despite himself, Loki found himself wondering what could be hidden underneath the pimp clothes of the club owner. A fantasy of warm skin and strong muscles filled his already slightly inebriated mind. An involuntary shiver went through him as Stark let his finger run over his leg. Couldn't that mortal keep his hands to himself?

"You know, I'm a pragmatic. A man of action, I like to think."

"I wonder what action you are referring to."

Loki hoped he sounded sarcastic, but the alcohol and sexual tension made his comment almost seem… longing.

"Well, why don't you try and find out?"

That was a suggestion. Loki tried to ignore it, ordered another drink and hoped the slight tremble in his hands didn't show. How long had it been? Asgard was his brother's "hunting ground", and his pale and slender complexion had never attracted many females –or males- in the first place. It had been long. Too long… From the uncomfortable bulge arising in his pants anyone could have told Loki tat even gods are "only human" when it comes to that particular aspect of existence… He finished his drink and looked at Stark.

"I suspect you have a place where this finding out can take place?"

_(Pagebreak)_

A dark-skinned man with an eye patch and a stern, threatening expression had made its way to the room where the Widow held court. Natasha smiled languidly when she saw him enter.

"Nicholas…"

The man, who clearly was a rich man of high authority, kneeled in front of the redhead and kissed her hand.

"Natasha, my beloved…"

"Nicholas, what brings me the honour of your presence tonight?"

It was mocking, and Natasha didn't do any effort to hide that. The man, still kneeling, looked up and grinned.

"The honour is all mine, Natasha… All mine."

"Get up. Lets talk business."

Nick Fury got up and took seat next to Natasha. The redhead smiled coldly at him.

"So. Business."

"I have heard you brought your little apprentice tonight."

"Ah-ah Nick, are you still displeased you couldn't have her?"

"Never, my Mistress… I was simply curious to see how her "education" would fare."

"You are free to watch with me. Come."

Natasha got up, and immediately the hawk-eyed bodyguard stood by her side. The way that man could creep and sneak still got on Fury's nerves… Two Number servants also got up, organizing Natasha's layered dress, as she stood straight. With a flick of her hand she dismissed them, and led Fury to the balcony of the room, which looked out over the Core.

"There she is."

A Number servant had Maria on the golden leash, and led her into the Core. On the edge of it, the servant detached the leash and sent her into the dancing crowd.

"Would you mind enlightening me what this lesson is about, Mistress Natasha?"

The Russian looked at her suitor and spoke.

"Humiliation, Nicholas dear. This lesson is humiliation."

Maria was embarrassed. She had been naked a lot, humiliated in her previous work quite a lot as well, but never… never like this. The training that had made her submit to the Widow had been painful, but… never like this. This was a different kind of pain. Clothed in nothing but a string and a gold leather collar she moved along the dancing people. They were not guests to an orgy; they weren't Natasha's servants and suitors, no. They were simply people. Everyday people she could have met anywhere on the streets of New York. Maria felt the looks and glares burning on her skin, it was as if she could feel their fingers curl up in hesitating longing. The blue flashing lights made her feel nauseous, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. She tried to move to the music, to forget the state she was in, but… The first touch was only the first of many. It was impossible to move in the crowd without having bodies rubbing themselves against you, without hands finding their way to inappropriate places… was it truly inappropriate? Trying to distract her mind Maria recalled another conversation she had had with the Widow.

_"You are ashamed. You call your work honest, but I can see the shame inside you."_

The Widow's hand had slid over her naked body much like the unknown hands did now; predatory, longing, possessive.

"It's inappropriate, I think. Despite it's honesty it's inappropriate."

_"You are a naïve little girl, Maria. What is inappropriate? Don't you see the dancing people, their touches, the longing bucking of their hips against each other in the concealed environment of parties and discos? It is not because they are clothed that their intentions are any different from yours. If anything, your honesty makes you the most appropriate of all of them."_

Maria danced, and the hands touched. They pinched her ass, caressed her thighs, grabbed her boobs… She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to see the faces that belonged with the hands. Hands couldn't harm her, but those greedy eyes in the blue neon light would violate her.

_(Pagebreak)_

Steve watched how Stark led Loki away. He decided to take a break from his shift and bring his friend Bruce a drink. Bruce was the club's bouncer, and actually quite friendly man. Steve –and all the unruly guests- knew better than anyone that looks could be deceiving. Bruce Banner was impossibly strong and rough when necessary…

"Hah, Bruce, how's life?"

" Good enough. No brawlers asking for a kick under their ass for the moment."

Steve gave the porter a glass of fruit juice. Banner never drank alcohol, because –in his own words- he didn't know his strength when he lost control. There were rumours that the outwards calm man had once killed someone in a drunken bout of rage, and having seen Bruce in action once Steve didn't find that too hard to imagine. He had never asked his friend if it was true though. Just like many of the permanent staff members Bruce had ended up in The Reactor with a rowdy past he would rather forget, and it was an unwritten rule among the personnel that you didn't bring it up.

"And, what's the gossip?"

"Stark has another victim in his greedy claws, and the Liar-Princess' apprentice is dancing naked in the Core at the moment."

Bruce chuckled.

"Wish I could go see that… I've seen her enter… I always wonder what brings a woman to abase herself like that."

Steve shrugged.

"I always wonder why Pepper stays with that guy, he has made a sport out of cheating. It's about as abasing as being kept naked on a leash in my opinion."

"So, what lady caught he boss's eye this time?"

"Not a lady… a guy. Foreigner I think; chic accent, smart getup, cheekbones that could cut through metal…"

"You thought he was cute."

"Hey, I'm free to think that, no?"

"Never thought you and Stark had the same taste in men… Did you get a name as well?"

"Loki. Never heard it before."

Bruce chuckled again.

"Named after the god of mischief and lies… I hope Tony knows what he's getting into…"

"Does he ever?"

"No."

"There you have your answer."

The two men chatted on for a moment, until Steve's break was over and he had to get back to the bar.

**(Author's Notes)**

**Introducing Bruce! I just couldn't leave him out, now could I? And yeah, Steve is gay. Verrry gay. Hope you like. Maria Hill will "suffer" a lot more before she can call herself a courtesan... And Loki will get his first fuck in a long row of maaaaany to come xD**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**


	3. Chapter 3

Standing in the luxurious suite above the club, Loki noticed that Stark had spoken the truth when he said he was a pragmatic. With pragmatic meaning unembarrassed and very to the point. Loki could appreciate it; after all he was there only to satisfy a physical need. The main room featured a sling, several sex toys laid on shelves, and a bottle of lube prominently on the bedside table. It was clear that this suite wasn't used to live in. Stark grinned suggestively at Loki.

"Well, what do you think of my humble kingdom?"

"It enlarges my curiosity…"

Loki only got his involuntary word pun when Stark's eyes wandered to his crotch and a dirty grin appeared on the man's face.

"And large it is…"

After that, not many words were wasted. Loki couldn't wait to get the man out of that ridiculous costume… He practically ripped the shiny gold shirt from Stark's chest.

"Feisty one, aren't you?"

Stark grinned, and Loki couldn't help but join him in it.

"Oh, you have no idea…"

Loki's eyes rested on the glowing device in the club owner's chest. Stark noticed and said, while making a dramatic gesture to his chest.

"Meet… My muse! Isn't she pretty?"

Loki supposed it was another Midgardian beautification, like a tattoo or a piercing, so he didn't ask further. Instead he teasingly touched the device.

"Very… Only I am more interested in another inspirational device of yours."

With a tug he pulled down the man's trousers, unveiling Stark's thick penis. Oh yes, he hadn't been mistaken… Anthony Stark could challenge Asgard's warriors any day.

"Pragmatism… I like it."

Tony went to even the playing field by pulling off the god's clothes as well. He was careful not to rip anything though, his "guest" would have to make his way out at the end of the evening too… He licked his lips like a hungry animal when seeing Loki's lid. The god noticed his eagerness and said.

"Let's get on with it then."

There was no romance when Loki pushed Stark on the bed and crushed his lips on his. It was nothing but satisfying a need. With one hand he stroked Stark's penis, with the other he reached for the lube on the bedside table. He slicked his fingers and slid them into the man's arse. He hissed in his ear.

"You like that, don't you?"

He moved in deeper, more fingers, while his other hand heightened the rhythm of the caress. He loved to feel the man's body writhe under him, to feel the swollen lid in his hand throb with anticipation… Tony just managed to moan a confirmation when Loki pulled back his hand and penetrated him, going in deep right away. It drew a moan from both their lips. Loki bucked his hips against Stark's, making the man under him moan. He knew it was probably painful, but as his old lover Angrboda had once told him, "All delightful things come in equal parts pleasure and pain". And delightful it was. He sucked in breath and drew his nails in Stark's back when he came, filling the smaller man up completely. He held him close for a short moment, breathing heavily, and then he pulled back, leaving his partner panting on the bed. Stark turned at him and gave him a lazy grin.

"Mhmm… I'm gonna be sore huh?"

"Counting on it, actually."

Loki admired Stark's toned body, couldn't help but slip his hand over tanned skin and visible muscles. Almost a caress, almost… It was more the touch of a predator playing with its food.

"Like what you see?"

As an answer, Loki pressed his nails once again in the man's skin.

"Guess."

Loki found Stark's lid and teasingly let his fingers glide up and down the shaft. Tony's eyes widened.

"Oh god…"

Loki's grin widened. His little subject didn't have the slightest idea how correct he was… Stark moaned.

"Oh come on, finish it!"

"Say please."

"Please Loki!"

"Please Loki what?"

"Please suck me off Loki, please!"

"I can never resist such a polite question…"

He crouched over Stark's legs and let his mouth enclose the man's warm cock. Slowly moving up and down, his tongue teasing the lid with remarkable agility. Opening his mouth wide, Loki went deep throat on Stark, making him moan in delight as the god's tongue slipped over his testicles. As Loki increased his rhythm, Stark came in his mouth, filling it with that slightly salty taste of warm cum. He swallowed and grinned at Tony. The club owner grinned back.

"Pragmatism… isn't it nice?"

"Very."

Loki licked his lips and gave Stark one last kiss. Then he got up and went to look for his clothes. Stark did the same, although he did need to take another tacky golden shirt from his closet, seeing that Loki's sharp nails had ripped through the other. Loki dressed and watched his partner-of-the-night do the same, and strangely enough he felt a certain appreciation for the man with his tacky clothing, bizarre body adornment and pimp cane. The dignity and ease with which the man lived the life he had chosen were simply admirable. When they were both properly dressed again, they said goodbye with a grin and a curt nod.

"Has your… curiosity… been satisfied?"

"Completely."

"Always aiming to please!"

Stark swung his cane around and gracefully opened the door for Loki. The god grinned back and left, feeling a whole lot better than before. The club owner left as well, skipping through the corridor to his office.

_(Pagebreak)_

Maria was tired. The night had passed in a haze of hands and improper touches, and she felt dirty. The music was still playing in her mind, the lights still flashing in front of her eyes when a Number Servant lead her off the now almost deserted dance floor. Natasha Romanova was waiting for her. Maria kneeled before her.

"Mistress…"

"Get up, Maria."

The woman got up, and with a candid gesture Natasha pulled one of the golden bells off her belt.

"You have succeeded this lesson."

Maria couldn't help but smile, even though she was tired. She had made it. This night's efforts had not been in vain.

"A room has been reserved for us. I will host a feast here and it is required to test the facilities first."

Maria was happy to hear they wouldn't need to travel out of the club tonight, but the thought of a feast filled her with unpleasant dread. It hadn't happened yet, but she feared that one of these days Natasha would "borrow" her to Mr Fury, the dark man who submitted to Natasha only and dominated everyone else, to serve as his enjoyment on one of the Widow's private parties. For some reason the one-eyed man filled her with fear.

"Don't think so much Maria, it's unbecoming of you. Come."

"Yes Mistress."

The Numbers brought them to a nice suite. Natasha let the servants take her coat and made them undress her, unlacing her corset and loosening the many layers of heavy fabric that shielded her. It was a bizarre ritual that Maria enjoyed to watch, her privilege as an apprentice; even the Hawk, Clint Barton, was not allowed in the room when the Widow was changing. When the Numbers were done, Natasha wore a simple Greek style dress in black silk. She turned her attention to Maria and smiled that cold smile that never reached her eyes. Her hand caressed Maria's skin, making her shiver.

"You feel dirty now, don't you? You want to wash yourself over and over again to remove their fingerprints from your skin, don't you?"

Maria slicked and nodded. The Widow looked at her, and for a moment Maria would have sworn there was a glint of comprehension in the woman's eyes. Then they became cold and icy again.

"Do you know what you have learned today?"

"I should not know shame, for what I do is honesty."

"Very good. But there is more. You feel dirty? That is because your skin now knows; your skin will be an external memory for every impermissible or unpleasant touch. There are two ways to be, Maria. You can be the victim, or you can be the controller. Their dirty hands can either violate you or flatter you; it is your choice. Even in submission you can pertain your dignity, Maria. Your skin has enough memories for a lifetime now. Don't make it remember more."

Maria bent her head. As always, the Widow held great wisdom in her words. It was true what she said, being naked and being touched could be a position of control as much as a position of submission and humiliation. It all depended on how you took it. Perhaps Natasha would punish her now for not understanding that earlier… She bit her lip, and the Widow put her hand on the woman's shoulder.

"Come with me."

She led the woman to the bathroom, where the Numbers had already filled the big bathtub with warm lavender scented water. With gentle movements Natasha unbuckled her apprentice's golden collar. The belt stayed on. She then pushed Maria towards the bath.

"Step in."

Maria did as her Mistress told her to, she stepped into the bathtub and sat down, knees to her chest. It was an automatic response. Natasha didn't say anything about it; she simply pushed the woman into a more horizontal position. With calm and tender gestures she washed Maria, a soft sponge rubbing over her skin, occasionally a finger tracing a barely visible scar.

"Don't think so much, Maria. You are in my care now."

And Maria obliged, closing her eyes and letting her thoughts slip away. It wasn't happiness, but it was… content. As Natasha washed away the invisible dirt, Maria felt herself become warm and sleepy. She barely noticed how strong arms –probably Clint's- lifted her from the bathtub, rubbed her dry and then put her in bed. Right before she fell asleep there was a soft voice whispering coldly in her ear.

"spokoynoy nochi, Maria…"

**(Author's Notes)**

**Maria has set her first steps on the path to becoming a courtesan... And Loki gets some! (he really needed it...) Suggestions, comments, critics, they're all welcome! **

**PLEASE REVIEW! **

**The more reviews I get, the more I write! Feed my muse please! **


	4. Chapter 4

The next night, Steve noticed a familiar face at the bar. He grinned.

"Hah, Jarvis! Descended from your tower once again?"

Jarvis was the club's accountant. He had his office next to Tony's, and barely ever left it. Tony sometimes joked that Jarvis was the lovechild of his coffee machine and calculator, as the man was brilliant in what he did –making sure the club's finances were okay, and also reminding Tony of his appointments- and also courteous enough to bring his boss a cup of coffee from time to time, but further didn't excel in any social skills.

"Well, it's Friday."

"Oh… Coming for the show then?"

"Mhm."

Other people might have thought Jarvis to be pathetic, but not Steve. He knew very well why the young accountant made his way down on Friday only… The club's hostess, Pepper Potts, would then star in a pretty fabulous show, and the accountant had a tit bit of a crush on her. Steve believed that Jarvis, thoughtful and polite as he always was, would make a much better partner for Pepper than Tony… if only the shy man would ever dare to approach her in that way. Steve decided Jarvis could use a bit of liquid courage and poured him a drink.

"Here you go. Why don't you talk to her?"

"She's out of my league, and she's my boss' girlfriend. Need more reasons?"

Steve looked up and down Jarvis. Blondish brown hair, blue eyes, a cute and slightly boyish face, well dressed…

"You're wrong there, you know."

Steve felt a slight blush come up, thinking that if Jarvis weren't after Pepper he would go after him himself… Jarvis chuckled dryly.

"I would look ridiculous in velvet."

Steve laughed.

"You know, Tony looks ridiculous in velvet too, only no one dares to tell him so."

They both laughed, and then Jarvis finished his drink and left to the Core, where Pepper would perform later in the evening.

_(Pagebreak)_

Maria was cleaning, wearing nothing but the most rudimentary covering, but surprisingly enough a pair of kneepads and gloves too. The apparent kindness made her suspicious. It only meant that for some reason the Widow didn't want her to damage her body right before the festivities, and she wondered why that would be… Natasha was preparing to go downstairs, leaving Maria in the care of a Number Servant. Maria didn't like them. They barely ever spoke, and their faces were always hidden behind emotionless white masks with darkened eyeholes and red lips drawn on. Their clothing was designed to be as much of a nuisance as possible, and the Numbers appeared to take pride in being graceful while their garments inhibited them in every way. Ballet boots that forced them on to the tips of their toes, heavy head coverings, constricting corset dresses… Today they wore latex dresses that showed their boobs, decorated with painful looking nipple clamps. Maria wondered if they made faces of pain and annoyance behind those masks… It was hard to imagine. She had never seen any of the Numbers' faces, and from what she had seen they even slept with those masks. It sent shivers down her spine thinking about what the Widow had done to them to get them like that…

_"Maria, tomorrow night your next lesson will take place. I want you to clean the floors on hands and knees today, and after that the Numbers will prepare you. When I return I want you to be waiting for me, on a clean floor."_

The command of her Mistress resounded in the young apprentice's head. There was so much she could do wrong… In the words of the Widow was a message hidden, and Maria feared that if she got it wrong, punishment would follow…

_(Pagebreak)_

The middle section of the blue glowing tiles of the Core had heightened to form a circular stage, and Tony stood in the middle of it, wearing an extra glittery version of his red suit. He swung his cane and yelled in the microphone.

"How are you tonight?! Having fun?!"

He received the yells and cheers from the partying crowd.

"Hah! That's how I like it! Now, tonight you will regale in the beauty and light of a star, a goddess! This, my friends, is the spice to your party! I present to you, your hostess and mistress… Peppeeeerrrr… Potts!"

Laughing he let himself be carried off the stage, enjoying his popularity with the crowd. As soon as he was off the stage, music started to play, and the room went dark, cease for the stage. From the ceiling descended something… It wasn't visible very well until a spot shone on it, unveiling Pepper Potts on a trapeze, dressed in a silver glittering gown. Her long blonde hair hung in soft curls over her shoulders and the lights made her indeed look almost divine. When the trapeze was above the stage, Pepper jumped off… hereby losing her silver gown as in an accident, leaving her dressed in a leotard of the same fabric. The music swept up, as the crowd cheered. Pepper danced over the stage, seductively. With one hand she reached into her panties, pouting her lips and crouching down… only to pull a long stick from her costume. She did this two times, and then she swept them over each other, setting the sticks on fire. Armed with fiery sticks she danced further, swinging them around dangerously while whipping her hair and shaking her body to the music. In the glow of the fire and the well-aimed neon lights the dancing woman no longer seemed like a goddess… more like a demon, all lust, sex and danger…

Jarvis was in the public, but so was Loki. He didn't know why he had come to the Reactor again, and even less why he had gone onto the dance floor… but now he had he was happy he had done so. He had been sceptic when Stark announced a goddess for their entertainment, but this young mortal could indeed pass for one, in this setting at least. He was, among lies and mischief, also the god of fire, so the play of this Pepper with her fire sticks intrigued him. It would be a lie to say she didn't arouse him too… He wondered for a moment how it would be to take her. From what he had heard she was the girlfriend of his previous partner-for-the-night, the boisterous and obnoxious Anthony Stark… It would be interesting to see that man's reaction to it. Loki discarded the thought. He had come to the club not to fuck some female, no matter how great her resemblance to the females of Asgard. He needed to learn more of the woman he had seen the first night…

_(Pagebreak)_

As was usual after Pepper's performances, the toilet stalls were occupied with people engaging in non-scat related activities… most of the time. There was something incredibly enticing about that woman. Steve sighed as he took his toilet break, half listening to the moaning in the stall next to him. Stark was lucky to have her and crazy to cheat on her as he did. She pretended not to care, but he knew better. He was a barman, and those were like half psychologists. He could tell Pepper wasn't happy from the way she eyed Tony when he wooed people into his bed… he knew she tolerated his behaviour simply because she loved him and didn't want to lose him. Tony Stark was a good boss, but sometimes Steve felt like punching the man for treating a good girl like Pepper so badly. Like that one foreign guy he had taken upstairs the previous night… He hadn't even done an effort to hide his intentions, right in front of her eyes.

When Steve exited the stall he noticed Jarvis standing at the washbasin, looking a little worse for wear. Worried he walked towards him.

"Hey, Jarvis? You okay?"

The accountant let out a deep sigh and forced a smile.

"Just tired, I suppose."

It was a little awkward, talking like that in the toilet, with the moaning on the background and the muffled music sounds coming from the Core… Jarvis shrugged.

"Steve, it's nothing really."

"It's Pepper, no?"

"You know as well as I do that it's her, and we both know it will never work."

Jarvis was never so open with anyone; Steve suspected it was the alcohol influencing the usually quite private man.

"Not if you continue to hide in your office and only peak at her on show nights."

Steve hadn't wanted to say that, but it exited his mouth before he could stop himself. Jarvis looked hurt at first, but then he nodded.

"You're right, and I know you're right. I should not be so silly."

Once again Steve observed the accountant… His tall figure stood a little hunched, and his not unattractive face looked defeated.

"You're charming, intelligent, polite, cute looking and British, for god's sake! You could get anyone!"

Jarvis raised an eyebrow.

"You forgot boring as hell, socially inept and pathetically shy. By the way, who said I'm cute looking? I can't imagine anyone…"

Steve couldn't help but blush a bit.

"You're not pathetically shy at all; you're just reserved. A little mystery is never bad!"

Jarvis looked at the bartender in a different way now. Steve was attractive, muscled and blonde and cheeky if he wanted to… There hung an unspoken question between them. Steve reached for the accountant's hand.

"I think you're cute."

In a moment of courage he pulled Jarvis closer and pressed a kiss on his lips. To his surprise the man answered his affections, and soon they held each other, kissing passionately. Whether it was rebound sex, a pity fuck or just pent up lust didn't even cross their minds… They just knew it was necessary, that they both needed it.

_(Pagebreak)_

Back at the bar, Loki noticed there was another bartender. This time it was an older man with a rather stern but not unfriendly face. Loki didn't know if he liked him.

"What shall it be for you?"

"Surprise me."

Loki was bored, and although he doubted any Midgardian drink would brighten his mood, it didn't hurt to try. The bartender gave Loki a shot glass with an undefined bright red liquid.

"Here you go, a Redheaded Slut for you."

Loki raised his eyebrows at the drink and it's bizarrely appropriate name. The bartender grinned.

"Jägermeister, Schnapps and cranberry juice. Nothing lethal."

"I'm pretty tough to kill anyway."

Loki answered the man, before downing the drink like a true Asgardian would. It didn't taste too bad, but it had a bit of a bitter aftertaste. It made Loki smirk. The bartender noticed.

"So… tough to kill are you?"

"So it seems. Does this club specialize in redheaded sluts, by the way?"

"You may be tough, but trust me if the Liar-Princess would hear you say that I don't think you would make it to the next day…"

Finally, Loki had what he wanted. An entry.

"I wouldn't bet on it…"

"Well, my money is on her. You… lack conviction."

Loki frowned. He couldn't stand mortals insulting him, let alone mortals that were in a position of servitude towards him… He suppressed his anger, and asked.

"What makes you think as such?"

The bartender shrugged.

"Just an observation."

"What would it take to prove you wrong?"

Anger and alcohol did strange things to Loki, and as he had always been a bit of a gambler… The bartender raised his eyebrows.

"The Liar-Princess' affections are for sale, as you probably know… All you require is money and conviction. I bet you a drink it won't work."

"Your offer is low for someone who doesn't believe I will succeed."

"As I said, I doubt you have the conviction. I don't necessarily doubt you will fail to approach her though."

It was an unusual conversation to have at a bar… Loki didn't like it. The mortal was far too… candid for his taste. But if it was true what he said, and the redhead could be bought…

"We'll see, Mr…"

"Phil. Just Phil."

Loki nodded politely.

"Another one of those… Redheaded sluts, please."

**(Author's Notes)**

**For Tigress In Da Room: A little bit of action for Steve! I promise there will be SMUT in the next chapter... Also, introducing Steve's colleague Phil Coulson, who has (duh) a secret crush on Steve and a good eye for someone's amount of conviction. **

**My muse thanks H. Lokidottir for the inspirational cookie, and confirms her translation of the small Russian phrase. **

**Suggestions, anyone? Everything is possible...**

**PLEASE REVIEW! I love reviews, and as previous reviewers know I ALWAYS answer ;) **


	5. Chapter 5

All Loki had to do was conjure a gift for the Russian redhead… He did it with a flick of his wrist under the bar table, and in no time he felt a cold form in his hand. He smiled, knowing exactly what it was. It was a giant ruby; easily conjured out of some stray elements his magic had laid hands on. All he had needed was a slight knowledge of the way the material looked on a molecular level, and then he could make literally everything out of mere stardust. With another flick of his wrist he enveloped the ruby with a silk pouch. A vicious smile adorned his lips when he put the pouch on the table and called the bartender again.

"Could you have this delivered to the redheaded lady… along with one of those red drinks you have made me?"

Bartender Phil shook his head in disbelief.

"So you're actually going to try this."

"So it seems. Now answer my question." He was silent for a moment, and then added thoughtfully. "Please."

"I'll see what I can do."

Loki observed how the bartender mixed the requested drink, put it on a plateau and called one of the waitresses to deliver it together with the mysterious package to Natasha Romanova. Loki grinned when he saw the young girl became all pale. So much respect as this bizarre woman had among humans, so little would she have under his rule… He felt his arousal grow at the mere thought of that already…

_(Pagebreak)_

Natasha looked up in disdain at the trembling young servant who stood before her with a plateau. The bar waitresses barely ever came in the private rooms, and this one felt mighty uneasy in the luscious heaven of red velvet and black silk… The woman she had come for was lying on a black leather chaise longue, her drapes hanging around her like the robes of a queen. In a low and threatening voice she spoke.

"I did not order anything."

"A…A… A…"

"Speak, or remain silent, but please do not fill my ears with your rambling, girl."

"A man in the bar ordered this drink for you, and requested I w-would bring you t-this…"

The girl pointed at the pouch. With one gesture, Clint Barton stood next to her, taking the drink and the pouch from the girl. The girl wanted to back away, but two number-servants blocked the door.

"Have I said you could leave, girl?"

The young waitress was close to panic… Clint Barton opened the pouch, and revealed a rather striking ruby, cut into perfection. Natasha raised one eyebrow.

"Have it checked."

Immediately, one of the Numbers came up with a small lens-like device, checking the ruby. A curt nod told the Widow enough.

"Clint… Visual."

The waitress looked up in surprise when a TV screen went on, showing the bar.

"Which one, girl."

Trembling, she pointed at Loki, who looked admittedly impressive in his suit… Natasha slowly nodded. She had her bodyguard zoom in on him, and noticed the cocky smirk that played on the unknown man's lips. As if he expected she would fall at his feet because of his gift… She looked at the drink the waitress had brought and asked.

"This drink… What is it called?"

The waitress became even paler than she already was. Almost whispering she uttered.

"A… A Redheaded Slut, Madam."

Not a moment Natasha's expression changed.

"You can go."

The girl hurried out of the room, and Natasha looked thoughtfully at the ruby, and then at the TV screen. Her lips curled into a smile that would have made a grown man tremble…

"Hmm… You will do."

_(Pagebreak)_

Loki was musing over what he had done, when someone ticked on his shoulder. He turned and came face-to-face, or better, face-to-mask, with one of the bizarre servants of the Widow. The woman wore a tight black latex dress that showed a deep décolletage on both her breasts and buttocks. On her head stood the heavy black wide-brimmed hat, tied under her chin with a silk ribbon, and on her feet she had boots that forced her feet into a painful position. Her face was hidden under a white mask, only adorned with darkened eyeholes and red painted lips. With a flat, emotionless voice she spoke.

"The Widow wishes to invite you to her quarters, tomorrow night, 10 pm. You should ask the porter."

Loki nodded, then looked at the bartender with a triumphant grin. Long his triumph didn't last though. Just as Phil turned his head, the bizarre woman continued.

"She also ordered me to do this."

From behind her back she got the glass of "Redheaded Slut", and before Loki could do anything, she simply emptied it over his head. His mouth fell open at the insolence. Without another word the woman put the empty glass on the bar and walked away, elegantly dancing on her enormous heels. Loki stared at her leaving, not knowing what to do or say. Everyone in the bar was looking at him he realized, and from the slight chuckles he caught he could tell he was not looking too dignified…

"Does the Liar-Princess not return your affections?"

Phil asked, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. Loki managed a smirk and answered.

"On the contrary. She invited me to her room tomorrow night."

"I hope you realize what you're doing…"

Loki glared despising at the bartender, which looked funny as he was covered in something red and sticky.

"You are not to question my motives. If you'll excuse me now…"

He got up and walked away, out of the club. He had had enough for tonight…

_(Pagebreak)_

Phil didn't know why he felt worry for the foreign man with his exotic name. There was something so alien, so wrong about him… he acted all cocky, but still the bartender couldn't shake the feeling that the man was hiding great sadness.

"You look in thought… Need a break?"

Steve had returned… His hair looked dishevelled and his otherwise spotless uniform now looked a little messy. It sent a pang through Phil's heart to realize that Steve had probably had an encounter of the sexual kind… Despite that he smiled.

"I'm good. What about you?"

Steve smiled.

"You won't believe it, but I've hooked up."

"Oh? With who then?"

So his suspicions were correct…

"Don't tell anyone, but… Jarvis. The accountant from upstairs, cute but shy?"

"I thought he was straight? Isn't he the one who's drooling all over Pepper?"

"Apparently he's bi…"

Steve flashed the older bartender a bright smile.

"So… what's the gossip?"

Phil was happy to talk about something else than the hook-ups of his hunky colleague, so with a grin he told Steve about the British-sounding man who had tried to seduce the Liar-Princess with a gift and a drink, and gotten the drink thrown over his head. As Phil described the man, a spark of recognition shone in Steve's eyes.

"Loki!"

"Huh?"

"That guy, who got the drink over his head? I'm pretty sure that's Loki, that fellow I told you about yesterday. Stark fucked him."

Phil's eyes widened.

"Oh my… and now he's apparently after the Widow…"

Steve shook his head.

"Correction my friend… if she really invited him, it means the Widow is after him."

They both laughed heartily at the foolishness of any man who believed they could tame the demon that went by the name of Natasha Romanova… Then Steve took over and Phil went to find himself a quiet place to rest until his next shift…

_(Pagebreak)_

Jarvis was still completely stunned by what had taken place. He had kissed Steve... Now Steve had kissed him… He could still feel the man's warm tongue exploring his mouth… He hadn't realized how much he wanted it until those lips were crushed on his. Those hands pushing him into an empty toilet stall and unbuttoning his shirt, hungrily seeking his skin… And he had answered the affections with a similar hunger, his hands almost too shaky to unbutton the bartender's shirt…

Steve had bitten his lip, pressed his bare chest against his… pressed him against the wall and pulled down his pants, exposing his throbbing cock… Jarvis felt the tinges of excitement still run along his spine when he thought about it… That warm, beautiful mouth that had kissed his lips and more, tongue trailing over his neckline, teeth softly rasping over his collarbone… Jarvis shook his head. He had to get his head back on business. But the images and sensations kept filling his mind, and almost as if he relived it he could feel Steve's mouth seek lower regions… that moist tongue twisting around his penis, those lips enclosing his cock as if they were made to do nothing but that… Sitting on his knees in the toilet stall, Steve had moved his mouth up and down Jarvis' dick, sending the young accountant in a chemical rush… His hands had held Jarvis's sides as he increased his movements, and Jarvis had by then joined the chorus of moans that filled the toilet. When he came, it was with a sigh, filling up the bartender's mouth with warm cum… When the image of Steve came to mind, half naked and on his knees with cum trickling down his chin, Jarvis realized he already had another erection. He hadn't told Steve it was his first time with a man… He hadn't told the bartender too much, actually. As soon as they were done, Steve had kissed him, the salty cum taste still on his lips, and whispered he had to go back, that his break was over. Jarvis had been too stunned and overcome with the unexpected sexual release, and all he had been able to do was nod. Now he was walking down the hallway to his office, trying desperately to get his mind back on his numbers. That he entered the wrong office was testimony of how well that was going…

He pushed open the office door, and was met by Anthony Stark, and Pepper Potts, lying on the desk. Well, Pepper was half lying on the desk, while Stark stood in front of it, banging into the lying woman. They didn't even stop when Jarvis entered. The accountant's mouth fell open when confronted with the nakedness of Pepper Potts, something he had never even dared to dream he would see. He hesitated just a second too long to close the door to be called polite...

_(Pagebreak)_

"Tony… I… Ah… Ah! Think Jarvis was h-here… Ooh!"

"Well baby… if he wants to… He can watch."

Tony grabbed Pepper and pulled her up, closer to him, while he continued to fuck her. Reduced to moaning, Pepper couldn't really object. She wrapped her legs around Tony and groaned as he relentlessly thrust into her.

Jarvis was now in the office right next to Tony's, and the extremely thick walls didn't hide a single thing from him. Already aroused because of the little encounter in the toilet, and completely confused by the sudden flash of Pepper's amazingly full breasts, he decided to do something he had never even thought about before. He grabbed his cell phone –a high tech thingy with all the flashy features you only use to waste time- and placed it in the air vent between his office and Stark's, so that the camera had a good sight of what was happening in the other office. Then he made connection to the phone with his computer, streaming and recording the camera footage. There she was, Pepper Potts, screen-wide and in high resolution, her stunning boobs bouncing to the rhythm of Stark's thrusts, her eyes hazy with sex and delight… Jarvis opened his pants and let his already fully erect lid out. He enclosed it with his hand and started jerking off to the rhythm of the moans and cries in the room next to him. Images of Steve mixed with the camera images in the accountant's mind, and he imagined it was Steve who was fucking Pepper, that it was his name she was calling out, that he was in the room, that he could watch them fuck and jerk off while doing so… He came together with Pepper, cum spraying over his pants and shoes. He didn't care. As the sounds died out in the office next to him, Jarvis closed his computer and put his head on his desk. He did no effort to clean up the sperm or get his cell phone back… he didn't even pull up his pants. Instead he just closed his eyes and tried to sleep, exhausted of the bizarre night…

**(Author's Notes)**

**Yeah... I made Jarvis a voyeur. Since in the canon he's kind of all-seeing I figured it would be appropriate. Also, more description of his little encounter with Steve, I know I wasn't descriptive enough there. Also, of course Phil is hopelessly crushing on Steve, who has no clue about this... And my favorite part: Loki gets humiliated. Call it foreshadowing... (he WILL get sex. Lots of sex. So don't worry.)**

**Comments, suggestions, critics? They're all welcome... and as my reviewers can testify, I really try to use your suggestions! (feel free to send me your dirty fantasies...)**

**PLEASE REVIEW! I love reviews, and I need them to write on! Don't let my Muse die, she lives on your reviews (and cookies you send her)!**


	6. Chapter 6

Maria didn't know what the plan was for the party. She had been washed by the Numbers and carefully checked for possible stubbles or stray hairs in places they didn't belong, and Mistress Natasha had done nothing but inspect her pose while she was lying naked on the squeaky clean floor. She had thrown that look; that satisfied but knowing look that promised a lesson would be learned… It had made Maria shiver. Now she was looking at the dress the Number servants had laid out for her. It was a floor-length gown of thin black fabric adorned with countless of black shiny beads. There were cut-outs in it and the fabric was very flimsy and see-through around the legs, but Maria couldn't help think that it was a very covering dress. When she put it on she looked almost decent, she realized. Racy yes, but not like a cheap hooker or the slave she was. With it came a thick black collar with a silver ring on the front, and a pair of flat beaded sandals, also corresponding in colour. She had just finished putting on the outfit when the cool voice of Natasha resounded behind her.

"Does the outfit please you, Maria?"

She respectfully bent her head and nodded.

"Yes Mistress, it does. It is very beautiful."

"I want you to walk with your head straight, Maria." Immediately the woman corrected her pose. Natasha nodded approvingly. "You will draw attention tonight. My guests will desire you."

Maria strained not to bite her lip. Of course. The dress, the get up, the bodily inspection… tonight Mistress Natasha's rich suitors would have a go at her. It was expected, but she had hoped to postpone it a little longer. She had only just completed one lesson of her education, after all… The golden belt with the bells was still there over her dress to remind her of that. Much to Maria's surprise though Natasha said.

"They will want you, but they won't be allowed to touch you. Also, I want you to be completely and utterly silent tonight. You will not speak a word, not utter a single sound. Is that understood?"

Dumbstruck, Maria nodded.

"You will be like a statue, but one that walks. You will keep your face neutral and not make any eye contact that could be interpreted as non-accidental."

Now the Russian courtesan smiled her cold smile.

"That doesn't mean you won't make eye contact on purpose, of course. You will have to make each and every one of the men in that room desire you and your body. As long as you follow my rules each technique you want to use is fine."

Her eyes became even icier now, and Maria could sense a threat was coming.

"I will know if you have failed to spark desire in them."

The way that woman knew her way with words without even changing the timbre of her voice too much was a mystery to Maria… She nodded and softly said.

"I understand, Mistress."

"Good. The Numbers will fetch you when the party begins."

_(Pagebreak)_

Loki had dressed sharply as usual, and as he made his way to The Reactor he couldn't shake the smirk from his face. That prideful mortal quim may have insulted him by having her servant drench him in that cocktail, but she had still invited him. Women were all the same on Earth as in Asgard; they all fell for pretty baubles. He grinned even more as he envisioned her kneeling before him. In the end she would. She was a mere mortal; he could almost feel the weakness of her being when he thought of her. Not all the rubies in the universe could make a mortal more than a god…

The party was being held on the private floor of the club, and he had to state his name twice before they would let him in. As if he couldn't just teleport if he wanted to… Mortals were such idiots. Loki was rather full of himself as he followed the security agent into the party space... despite that he had to admit the room was decorated quite a bit more artful than the average feast hall in Asgard. It was, in accord with the rest of the club's décor, a futuristically modern room, with a shiny black floor, dark walls with carefully placed coloured LED lighting, and black leather furniture on strategic places. On one end of the room appeared to be some sort of tribune, not really elevated from the rest of the room but clearly the place where the important guests were situated. There were already quite a few people in the party space, men and women all dressed in expensive garbs. Some ogled him, scanned him to see how expensive his suit might be and how fat his bank accounts. The superficiality of it all disgusted Loki. He himself scanned the room for his hostess, the so-called Liar-Princess Natasha Romanova… he didn't see her, nor that little slave girl of hers, or her faceless servants. She was probably waiting until everyone had arrived to make a grand entrance, he mused. At the bar he met the first familiar face of the evening. It was the blonde barman Steve who was mixing the drinks… Loki decided to go talk to him. It wasn't because he felt uncomfortable, he told himself, but because he hoped Steve would tell his colleague that he had seen Loki on the illustrious Black Widow's feast.

"A scotch please."

Steve turned and his eyes widened a bit when he caught sight of Loki's rather vicious smirk. The first time he had met the foreign man he had sounded and looked simply bored, but now his eyes had a glint of madness that was downright frightening. Without saying something he prepared the drink and put it in front of him. Something inside Steve wanted to make a bit of conversation –after all this Loki person was the first one he actually had seen before here- but he didn't and simply continued preparing the orders of the other customers. This party was already making him feel uncomfortable and that uncanny foreigner probably wouldn't make it better.

_(Pagebreak)_

The barman ignored him. Loki felt a bit insulted. How dare that mortal think he could ignore him! The party was relatively boring too, not the decadent affair he had expected when he had first laid eyes on Natasha Romanova. That changed quickly though when the large doors opened and the woman in question entered. She wore a large overcoat of black brocade with red and silver details, which covered most of her. Behind her came the three Number Servants, all three in skin-tight leather dresses that seemed to exist only of material on the crucial places yet still managed to restrict them to tiny little steps. On their feet they wore ballet pumps that forced their feet in a painful pointe and on their heads stood their trademark wide-rimmed heavy hats.

For a moment Natasha stood still, making sure she had everyone's attention. Then the servants took the heavy coat from her shoulders, unveiling the courtesans dress. A choir of suppressed "oh's" went through the crowd, and Loki felt strangely proud to see the outfit. It was a black silk dress, and over it an exoskeleton of silver or platinum was placed, shaped to look like a spider's web. In the middle of it sat a huge Black Widow spider made out of the same material, but in the back of it shone a truly remarkable (and big) ruby. Loki's gift. Loki observed how a tall black man came forward from the crowd, took Natasha's hand, and kissed it gallantly. He then led her to her seat in the middle of the tribune, like a king would lead his queen. These mortals had style, but all their decadence wouldn't save them…

_(Pagebreak)_

"Well, Natasha… I must say I look forward to the proceedings of tonight. Where is that student of yours?"

"Having her second lesson tonight. You will see, she is part of tonight's entertainment."

"Oh?"

Natasha smiled coldly.

"Not that kind of entertainment… for now. I have a special gift for you though, Nicholas."

The black man laughed predatory, a cold gleam in his one eye.

"A gift, Natasha dear? Am I not the one to give gifts to you?"

"As we both know, my gift consist of payment in kind… and I have the feeling you are going to like this payment. But let us first enjoy the party."

As if that was a sign, the doors opened again, and now women streamed into the room, all dressed in flimsy red dresses of glittery beads and waving see-through fabric. Music resounded, and they started dancing, most seductively. In the middle of that walked one lonely figure, dressed in the same outfit but black. She walked between the dancing girls like a guest that had missed the start of the party, a little lost and double as entrancing because of it. The red girls danced and smiled and the men pulled them on their laps, pinched their ass, tried to feel under their skirts as they philandered through the room… It was an amusing spectacle, those dignified rich men who became like clumsy teenagers in a strip club when offered the promise of unrestricted sex, as much as they liked. Nicholas found it amusing as much as Natasha. What truly caught the men's attention though was the woman in black. The way she wandered, sometimes looking, her wide eyes catching theirs just for a second, it made them follow her through the sea of red fabric, trying to touch her, approach her… No matter how many willing girls in red danced through the room, now also starting to bring around drinks and plates of food, they all wanted to be the one to pull the one in black on their lap. It was a matter of offer and demand, they all wanted what only one would be able to get… they thought.

_(Pagebreak)_

Men are like pigs, Natasha thought, while observing the party in silence. They were all pigs, slobbering from a freshly filled feeding-trough. She looked at the man next to her, Nicholas Fury. A small smile curled her lips. No, some men were like pigs. Others were wolves, predators. She couldn't say that she particularly liked Fury, and she knew that he didn't particularly like her. Their relationship was of a business kind. She was on offer, and just another thing for him to have, a symbol of status, a way of showing off his richness and power to the world. He was able to pay for her, to pay the price of her whims, to gift her properties, diamonds and stocks and virtually everything else she set eyes upon. In return she gave him status, and fulfilled certain needs a man in his position had, certain needs that were difficult to satisfy in the modern day society without the assistance of someone with her connections. Of all the kinds of suitors she had had in her very fruitful career she liked Fury's kind best. Men had fallen in love with her, men had disrespected her, they had desired and despised her, but only a man like Fury could see that they were equals, each masters of their field in their own way.

"You seem in deep thought, Natasha."

"I was observing your gift."

"You make me curious…"

"Good."

_(Pagebreak)_

She felt watched, observed, as if their eyes wanted to devour her. Maria danced a bit, often took a bit of an offered dish, a small sip of a glass, pretended to be as much of an honoured guest as she was of a dirty hooker, and let her eyes skip over the men that tried to approach her. The red-clad dancers protected her, she knew. No man would touch her tonight. It gave her a strange sense of power, dirty power, like a bloodied knife or a twitching cock in her mouth. It wasn't a sensation she was used to, and she didn't really know how to deal with it. They had pushed the knife in her hands, forced her down on her knees; they had given her power by force. It felt like a sticky substance on her skin. But the men were there. She was there. In her unapproachability she was the one thing they couldn't have… and they wanted her. She could feel it grow in their eyes, the more they realized they couldn't grab her like they grabbed the other dancers, that she was out of reach for their greedy hands, the more they wanted her. The greed of businessmen was incomparable… Maria felt low and disgusting at first, but she remembered the first lesson. _You can be the victim, or you can be the controller._ She had been given power, dirty power, and she would control it. It almost brought her pleasure, teasing the men with the knowledge that all their richness couldn't bring her to them…

**(Author's Notes)**

**I am so, so sorry for the long wait! I had a tough case of Typer's Block: a head full of storyline, but hands too lazy to type it out... Now I'm back though! This chapter was very Natasha-centric, I know, but I won't neglect my other characters, I promise! Also, there will be sex in the next chapter ;)**

**Please, please PLEASE review! Inspirational cookies are appreciated greatly, and I adore each and every one of you! **


	7. Chapter 7

Loki didn't touch the dancers, not even when they practically draped themselves on his lap. Instead he watched how the men let go of dignity and decorum so early on the evening already, knowing that in this environment they could be brutish animals and no one would complain. This was the true face of Midgard… these men were the hypocrites, the dissemblers that represented the human race. It gave Loki a strange sort of confidence. These men would form no resistance to his conquest…

_(Pagebreak)_

"Look, Nicholas."

"Isn't that the man…"

"Oh yes. He is yours for tonight, Nicholas. In exactly the way you like them."

Natasha had discreetly pointed Loki out. Nicholas grinned as he caught sight of the beautiful young man.

"Oh, how well you know me, Natasha…"

Fury knew that the man had insulted the courtesan, and that her offering the man to him was merely a way to extract her revenge… but that didn't matter. He had since long learned not to question the methods of his paid companion. Natasha had her own brand of despicable, and he tended to like it. His tastes would have repulsed more than one young woman in Natasha's field, but the Black Widow was special. There was a reason why she was since long the most renowned of her kind…

_(Pagebreak)_

Steve was good in observing people; he was a barman after all and those are half psychologists. He didn't feel comfortable on the party though. The decadence repulsed him in a way, made him feel horrible. Phil often called him old-fashioned, and perhaps he was. He had an old-fashioned set of norms and values, in which he truly believed. Occasions like this made him feel alone in his desire to be honest and respectable. Men he had sometimes seen at his bar, men of which he knew they had wives and families, were now lustfully defiling young dancers as if they didn't have a care in the world. It made him feel sick in the pit of his stomach. Sometimes his eyes went to Loki. No longer sitting at the bar, but still within eyesight, the foreign young man sometimes caught his eyes. He didn't seem to be as pleased with the dancers that freely offered themselves as the other men were. He seemed to be brooding, his gleaming eyes pointed at some event in the future. It gave Steve the chills. Why couldn't he just stay behind the normal bar, facing normal people with normal trouble? In this world normality seemed lost… Or was it just him? Was he so out of time that he had no clue anymore of what was to be considered normal?

_(Pagebreak)_

On a certain point the dancers started leaving the room, pointing the guests to follow them. The next room was set as a classic eating room, set up for dinner. The red-clad dancers disappeared though… Instead, creatures that made the men tremble led them to their seats. They were all completely naked, but somehow they weren't attractive. They were bald, and black duct tape closed off all their openings. Their mouth and vagina were both hidden from sight by a black stripe, and black crosses hid the nipples from greedy eyes as well. The girls' eyes were eerie, white contact lenses made it seem as if they had no pupils, no irises. In a way it was hard to picture these identical creatures as human. All that made them unique had somehow been hidden from sight. They didn't flinch when daring men tried to touch them, but not many men did. They gave the classic dinner chamber with its porcelain plates and white damask tablecloths an almost surreal hue, disgusting in their inhumanity.

Loki was fascinated with the creatures. They looked regal, monstrous but regal, so much more dignified than the dancers had been even though they were seemingly in a much more humiliating position. Loki watched their empty eyes and felt a bizarre and unusual stroke of admiration. Incorruptible, untouchable, as if they had distanced themselves completely from the human race… Somehow it was as if the personality-less women challenged him. Try to rule us. We want to see you try.

_(Pagebreak)_

The dinner proceeded, and the guests ate. The food was most definitely delicious… But the men were left with a hunger for something more. On a certain point Natasha got up.

"I must see to the preparation of the desert. It will be here soon."

With that she left, followed by the Hawk-eyed bodyguard and her Numbers.

She walked to the kitchen, where on a table an enormous silver plate was placed. On the floor next to it stood the silver bell jar that would be placed over it.

"Maria?"

"Yes Mistress?"

The young woman entered the kitchen and kneeled before Natasha.

"Get up and undress."

Silently, Maria obeyed. She knew that the power she had tasted would fall off her with the dress, and that now she would be punished for her lack of humility… Strangely enough the silk that dropped to the floor felt like a cage being opened, as if the powerful state had never been her natural one. Natasha inspected her body, and then ordered her to take place on the silver plate. For a moment she thought she had misunderstood.

"Excuse me, Mistress?"

"Do you question me?"

"Of course not, Mistress."

Maria took place on the plate, wearing nothing but her golden bells. Natasha corrected her pose a bit, and then the Numbers started to decorate Maria. She felt how they placed rosettes of sugar and colourful water ice on her, drew patterns of sweet sauces on her bare skin, dressed her in food. A sense of panic came over her when the bell jar was placed over her, and she felt how the plate was lifted. She hated dark, crammed spaces… She bit her lips and pinched her eyes, trying to hold the panic inside as much as she could. _You can be the victim or you can be the controller._ She kept repeating that inside…

_(Pagebreak)_

The desert was a huge silver plate, hidden from sight by a bell jar. It was carried by six of the impersonal beings and placed upon the table with the utmost care.

"As a good hostess, I hate to let me guests leave the table hungry… no matter what the nature of that hunger may be. As a good hostess I try to serve exactly that what my guests desire… So let us feast!"

The servants lifted the bell jar, and the men could foremost feast their eyes on the beautiful naked body of the girl in black, now covered in small sugary delights. Her eyes were wide, the kind of wide that can mean both panic of sexual arousal, and she looked at the guests as if she was almost surprised to find herself there. A hunting trophy, caught and served after the hunt…

Natasha bent over Maria, and licked playfully from the sauce on the girl's boobs. It didn't take long before the guests followed her example, and men and women alike licked obediently the desert from Maria's naked body. She lay still, lounged, and let them have it…. Loki didn't want to lick the woman. Even though she was lying there, offering herself, it seemed so… servile, to lick her clean. Almost like a trap, offering power while taking it. Yet something about the trap was so attractive, so tempting, that he too bowed his head and let his tongue slide over the smooth skin of the young woman. He had to give it to this mortal Liar-Princess; she knew how to play on the chessboard of people… The taste and scent of the human female felt his mouth and nose, it was strangely eroticizing. For a moment he caught her eyes, wide and slightly panicky, like a deer caught in headlights… and something in them shocked him, provoked him even. In the same way the de-personalized women had done something about the woman seemed to say; "You don't own me. You can't own me. You never will."

For the first time that evening Loki got the disconcerting feeling that perhaps coming there hadn't been a good idea at all…

_(Pagebreak)_

After the dinner the Impersonas brought Maria back to the kitchen. In silence Natasha led her to a bathroom nearby and put her under a shower, spraying her clean with a hose. Maria trembled, the water was icy in comparison to the multitude of wet, raspy tongues that had traced her curves just a while ago, but it also felt good. The food remnants and the people's saliva got removed and the hard coldness of the water woke her up from the slightly shocked state she had been in. When she got out of the shower, Natasha herself rubbed her dry with a large towel. When she was done Maria's skin was rosy and glowing. The courtesan looked at her student.

"Have you learned something, Maria?"

Maria slowly nodded.

"Patience is a virtue, when a man has to wait to have me he will desire me all the more."

Natasha gave her a cold smile.

"You learn fast, Maria. But again, that is not all you have learned tonight. None of those men has had you tonight, and none of them will. They have only gotten a taste of you, it leaves them both satisfied and longing for more. Satisfied, because they believe in the illusion they caught you eventually, that their hunt was a success… And longing, because every taste of a woman only tastes like more to a man."

Maria bent her head.

"I was scared, Mistress. When I was under the bell jar, I was scared."

She didn't know why she confessed that. Strangely enough Natasha didn't call her out for it. The courtesan looked almost sad now.

"In the work we do, fear is a constant, Maria. When you get up you will be afraid and when you go to sleep you will be afraid. Those without fear are foolish. Those who conquer their demons every day again, only those are truly brave. Never feel ashamed of being afraid, but always know that your fears are yours alone, and yours to conquer."

Maria looked up in surprise, and Natasha reached out for one of the golden bells and swiftly pulled it off the cord.

"You have learned valuable lessons tonight. I leave it to you to think out for which lesson I took the bell."

**(Author's Notes)**

**Have you noticed the past chapter is entirely review-less? I am sad, people. Very sad. Please, please PLEASE review, or it will be a long time before the next chapter arrives! I need your reviews, my muse is dying from lack of nourishment!**

**Anyway... I promised sex, but I got carried away a bit at the dinner party and the chapter would have been too long to also include the sex scene... **

**The serve-yourself-act is commemorating the awesome Cora Pearl, dead for over a century now and a great source of inspiration for the likes of Natasha. Credit to those deserving it! :D**

**So again... REVIEW! There will be cookies!**


	8. Chapter 8

The party was resumed in the old room, and now the dancers were more scantily clad and the men even less restrained. One man pulled a girl by her hair and forced her on her knees to suck his dick, another one pushed a dancer against the wall to fuck her, and similar events happened all over the party space. Loki was repulsed with the decadence and animalistic needs of these mortals… He tried to ignore the throbbing of his own cock, put it to the atmosphere and not a true physical need. He was above this. He was sitting at the bar, drinking another scotch, when he caught the eyes of the bartender, Steve he recalled. The man didn't look at him, but at someone behind him, with an almost apprehensive look in his eyes. Loki felt the urge to immediately turn around, but he knew better than that; such a move would place him in the disadvantage.

"Well hello…"

Loki looked to the side, and stared straight into the dangerously glimmering eye of the black man that had kissed the courtesan's hand. Something about the figure sent shivers through him of the worst kind.

"Have we met?"

"I'm afraid not. My name is Nicholas Fury. I happen to know you are Loki."

"News travels it seems."

"An arrogant prat never goes unnoticed for long…"

It was familiar. The whole sentence structure, the conversation, in a very unpleasant way it was very familiar for Loki. It made him think of… No. Not ever think of that. Especially not here.

"Is there something you wished to discuss with me?"

"I think you know what I want to discuss."

Loki never had trouble finding a good comeback, but now his tongue was dry, he had to stop himself from visibly gulping. Much too familiar, this feeling…

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Mr Fury."

Loki had hoped that using the man's last name would sound polite and distant, but somehow it seemed to add only power to the black man next to him.

"I'm not so easily fooled, Loki…"

The god felt a hand on his leg. It was as if an electric shock went through him, he shivered visibly. He pinched his eyes and cursed his nature, while Fury bent closer to him and whispered in his ear.

"We both would love to have this discussion…"

"I'm… I'm afraid not."

"Oh, I know you are afraid… but I don't think the 'not' is part of the equation here."

Loki sort of knew this. He had heard of this. He had just never thought it would happen like this, not here on Midgard, not… The hand on his leg had shifted in position, and Loki's thoughts raced. Indignantly, yet still hushed he said.

"Keep your hands to yourself, I'm not interested."

"Can you honestly say so?"

Loki cursed his nature, once again. There was something, something uncomfortably familiar about the aura of power and ruthlessness that black man seemed to exhale, something that his being responded to in the manner it always had, the physically embarrassing manner that had always doubled or tripled his punishments when he received them… While the uncomfortable throbbing became a raging hard on, right under the fingers of Fury, Loki was thrown back into a flashback, of himself in the loincloth of a convict and Odin extracting punishment, and how while the iron whip scathed his back he had felt that same… He opened his eyes again and found himself standing up, held tightly by Fury. Somehow he had completely lost touch and allowed Fury to take him to the middle of the room.

"Bend over."

And Loki, struck by the fact he had completely zoned off in a situation of danger and allowed himself to be placed in such a position… did so. Maybe it was the uncanny resemblance; maybe it was pure shock, he didn't know. And while his hands were placed on the table before him he could see the tribune where the Liar-Princess lay lounging on a chaise longue, the slave woman on a pillow at her feet. As his pants got pulled down a wave of humiliation came over him. He had his magic; he was a god for fuck's sake why did he allow these worthless mortals to do this? He could not let them mock him like this he couldn't allow it! Yet despite the thoughts raging through his head he couldn't bring himself to move, to do anything at all. He was back in Asgard, bent over the punishment bank again, feeling the whip on his back again… A hand enwrapped his penis, rubbed it in a way Loki couldn't help but react to, and when Fury entered him with barely any preparation, thrust deep inside in the most painful, uncomfortable way, Loki's dick twitched even more. The burning pain was only adding to the sensation of… punishment. He caught Natasha's eyes, and the way they shone with icy delight made him boil with anger. Anger at himself and his powerlessness while scorching pain mixed with unwanted pleasure got all directed at her, that bitch, that mewling quim… Fury increased his speed, and Loki almost cried out in agony. It felt as if he was being ripped apart… Only his anger kept him standing. Of all the things he could do he knew the only acceptable option was to take it with all the dignity he had left. His eyes burned with pure hatred when he pointed them at Natasha. That woman would die a most horrendous death… by his hand. The thought faded as Fury hit his prostate hard, and came inside him. Loki came as well, even though he tried his best to stop it. As the black man pulled out, Loki felt like crying. On autopilot he tried to make himself presentable and get pants in place again. It all hurt, but what hurt most was his pride. Fury simply zipped up and coldly watched the god walk away to the nearest toilets. He was satisfied… It was more fun when they screamed, but the way that man had surrendered almost automatically was fascinating too…

_(Pagebreak)_

Steve wanted to throw up. He wished he had passed this task to Phil. He wished he had never said yes when Stark had asked him to work on a Private Party. It was too disgusting. He had known it from the way Fury approached Loki, he had known because everyone knew the stories, that Fury liked his partners a bit unwilling, the more realistic the better, and that he didn't care much for who it was, as long as the other person was completely powerless. He had hoped they were but rumours, but from the way the black man had bent over Loki, Steve had known they were true. It was as if he could see the foreign man crumble in the presence of Fury, as if the black man's power made such an impression that it completely paralyzed Loki. Steve recognized the behaviour; the way the man closed his eyes and tensed up, preparing for impact… He had already given up on trying to struggle. He wouldn't make a scene. Steve had seen how Fury practically placed Loki in the middle of the room, forced him to bend over, and took advantage. It was so rough, so cold and low and disgusting and Steve just couldn't find enough adjectives to describe his repulsion. It was so despicable, he just couldn't wrap his mind around it that it happened right there for everyone to see. And he knew that everybody knew… that was perhaps the worst. If this was considered normal these days… he wasn't sure if he wanted to be normal in this world.

_(Pagebreak)_

Natasha knew, when she saw Loki leave to the toilets, that she had made a very dangerous enemy. The look in his eyes while Nicholas had played had been pure and unrefined evil, sent in her direction. But she knew how to deal with enemies, especially those of the dangerous and murderous kind. She had observed him during his ordeal, and she had seen all the signs. When he had walked off, the man had been falling apart. Oh, he would do. She was certain he would do.

**(Author's Notes)**

**I know that Loki not fighting could be interpreted as being OOC, but I think there is trauma, flashbacks, panic, and... well, perhaps a bit of an oedipus complex playing there, which all adds up to his reaction to Fury's advances. Don't hate me. **

**Natasha has a plan, Fury has his way, Loki is murderous and traumatized, and Steve is questioning modern day morality. Hope you liked... If you did, and even if you didn't, PLEASE REVIEW! Your reviews please me to no end... And more reviews equal more sex! **

**I thank all the ones that reviewed! TwiVamp-TrekkerVendetta, Miss Kitty Chievious, Tigress In Da Room (I'm glad you caught the power-through-submission streak!), and a guest...**


End file.
